England's Cleaning of the Cellar
by shadowraven45662
Summary: England's cellar clearout drags up some sad memories of his colonisation of America. And meeting Mother America. EnglandOC request for The Rose Red Alchemist.


**Hey! This story is a request for The Rose Red Alchemist who writes to "Victorian England's postal Service" as Mother America and also SammyRose. So here we have an England and Mother America (Hehewuti-Chepi Bonnefoy) story. Based loosely upon the America's cleaning of the Storage arc, i used the same style. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

England flicked the light switch and carefully made his way down the old rickety steps that lead to his cellar. The place hadn't seen light for a good decade or so; it smelt musty and old of things long forgotten and unused. The grey stone walls were cold to the touch of England's hand as he used to make sure he didn't fall down if one of the steps turned out to have rotted through and give way under his weight. The cellar itself was a hodgepodge of boxes and trunks and files gathered over the years and cast in here to spend their lives now they were unneeded. Clothes, Weapons, documents it was like the most disorganised museum archives in the world. Among the items scattered around there were several items that people would probably be quite happy to get their hands on. A copy of the Magna Carta, a world war one helmet, a gas mask with ration books stuffed into it, a pirate sword and compass, Excalibur (don't ask how he got hold of that!) and even some of the inventions that had been on exhibition at the Crystal Palace.

"I guess its about time I went through all this junk" England said to himself, running a hand through his hair, then immediately regretting it since how his hair was full of brick dust, "Its been so long since I was down here, but I've never really had the heart to clean up this place."

He sighed and made his way to the middle of the cellar, avoiding the cobwebs as he did so for if there is one thing England cannot stand is cobwebs and for that matter spiders, sitting down on an old wooden sea chest. The chest groaned under his weight a little but didn't collapse.

"Right then!" England said, hauling a huge box labelled 'Pre-revolution' over to where he could reach it "We'll start with this one then!"

Carefully he pulled open the box and looked inside, it smelt of mothballs and gunpowder and the cloud of dust that erupted out as he lifted the lid made him have to stop and sneeze for a good long while.

"Clearly I haven't been in here for a while" England remarked to himself, brushing dust out of his eyes and peering back into the box. Inside was what appeared to be some kind of blanket wrapped up very tightly. A few of America's old nightshirts were packed in there as well, cute as they were, England focussed his attention on the blanket. He had no idea what it was. So carefully; using both hands he lifted the blanket out of the box and onto his lap. It was bigger than he'd expected and unrolled itself as he picket it up, sending something spilling out onto the floor where it clattered out of sight.

Keen not to lose this item England set the blanket aside and searched for the object that had rolled off. He found it a few feet away and realised it was a necklace of beads. Old beads that looked as if they had been hand carved from wood a long time ago. In the middle of the necklace was a pendent that, when England's emerald eyes fell upon it, caused him to gasp in surprise. A tiny flint arrowhead which England knew vey well had been hand-knapped for him.

"This-This is…" he began to say, lost in his own thoughts, his own memories.

* * *

"So this is the new land!" England cried out in elation as his boat docked in the newly formed Jamestown port. Young, free-spirited and barely over his days of privateering England had heard news of a new land discovered from his boss King James I and knew he must go out and see it for his own eyes. Now here he was, in the new land of "America" that was now his colony. The other sailors were as excited about their arrival as he was, much to the pleasure of the Jamestown residents who welcomed them with open arms. Warning them to be wary of the nearby native "savages" who frequently attacked the town.

His curiosity got the better of him. Despite the warnings England felt compelled to explore the forest around the outside of Jamestown. He knew it was dangerous, but he was immortal so it shouldn't matter to him right? He wanted to see more of the country he had claimed. So, under the cover of darkness, with only a lamp to guide him, England left the settlement and made his way into the forest, taking in every inch of what he saw. Lush green trees unspoilt by man, grass tickling his feet and ankles and the any whistles and hoots of the night animals surrounding him in a clock of inky darkness. It was ethereal and beautiful.

"This is incredible!" he said, his voice sounding louder than he'd expected in the darkness.

"Indeed" a voice echoes from somewhere.

England whirled round, every nerve in his body suddenly awake and alert. His eyes darting around in fear, searching for the owner of the voice, the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Holding the lamp out to try and shed more light. He tried to speak; to question the hidden speaker, but he found himself numb with shock and unable to speak without stammering like a frightened child.

"W-Who's there?" he said nervously.

"Why, I am here of course" the voice replied and a figure stepped out of the darkness. A woman of Native American race; taller and far more beautiful than any of the other natives England had seen before. Her black hair reached her knees and was braided with wooden beads and bird feathers, her tan coloured skin made darker by the night. She wore the traditional dress of the natives, the chocolate brown dress decorated with yet more beads and feathers as were wrists and neck in the many bracelets and necklaces she wore. On her feet a pair of well-worn moccasins that looked as if they had seen many seasons of walking. But what bewitched England the most was her eyes; darkest brown gazing down into his own emerald. He could see power in those eyes; they were eyes that had seen many years of change and heartbreak, there was sadness in them.

"W-Who are you?" England stammered.

The woman blinked and looked up at the moon before turning back to face him. "My name?" she said, "I am the spirit of this very land you have dared set your ugly tribe upon. My name is Hehewuti –Chepi the spirit of America and who, may I ask, are you?"

England steadied himself, this woman was like him? He couldn't believe it. "M-My name is Arthur Kirkland" he declared "The Kingdom of England, protector of this territory and its people."

At this the woman who called herself America laughed "You little lone wolf? A nation? I find that hard to believe."

England felt his courage return to him a little "I am! And this territory is under English crown protection! Do not mock me!"

Hehewuti-Chepi laughed again "Silly wolf, I'm not mocking you. I was simply surprised that there were others who were like me."

England blushed a little "Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Why do you call me Little Wolf?" England asked, embarrassed.

"Because you are here alone; of your own curiosity and courage with determination I have seen in no other creature other than the wolf who howls alone at the moon each night. And your hair is so fluffy like the fur of a new-born cub that is why." Hehewuti-Chepi replied calmly. "In my language it would be Kuckunniwi."

England smiled "I like that, Kuckunniwi, its nice."

Hehewuti-Chepi smiled back and then said firmly "But this is my land Little wolf and if you insist on bringing your people here and calling it your own you must promise me that you will protect my land and my people as well. We have helped your people in the past Little Wolf, when they were starving we fed them and taught them to cultivate crops for their own food, so I expect you to care for my people in return do you understand?"

England nodded "I understand completely."

Hehewuti-Chepi reached up to her neck and unfastened one of her necklaces. Carefully stepping over to where England stood she reached round and fastened it around his pale neck. England looked down and saw a necklace of wooden beads centred by a flint arrowhead.

"I give you this as I sign of our friendship and of your promise Kuckunniwi."

"Thank you, Hehewuti"

* * *

England Shook his head to dispel his thoughts from further addling his mind. The hand he held the necklace in was shaking slightly, as if the item itself knew of what had happened after that meeting. He placed it down on the lid of the box, still trying to rid himself of the memory.

"Focus! Focus Dammit or this will never get cleaned up!" he muttered to himself.

Next he pulled out the woven blanket and laid it out gently, flattening out the creases that had accumulated from the centuries of being folded and forgotten. Woven and dyed by hand, England could still smell wood-smoke and roses beneath the layer of dust, the blanket was patchwork. Each little square depicting a scene; there was a mighty galleon flying the English flag, a little boy in a white nightshirt with a red ribbon coming undone as he skipped happily, a man with blonde hair and heavily accented eyebrows (England noted that each one was made of six individual stitches) standing proudly next to a tall dark woman, just a few of the many pictures on the quilt.

England ran his hands along each little square, feeling the fraying wool beneath his fingers, closed his eyes and sighed.

* * *

"Did you make this yourself mama?" a little voice squealed with delight from beneath the folds of the blanket that was wrapped around him.

From the other side of the cooking fire Mama laughed and nodded "do you like it little Alfred?" she asked.

The boy poked his head out from beneath the blanket, a sandy mop that stuck out all over the place in particular one little curl on his forehead, his blue eyes glimmering with delight and a huge grin on his face. "It's wonderful!"

England made his way over to the little boy and scooped him up into his arms "well then I'm sure you'll be more than willing to go to bed then won't you?"

Alfred, who normally hated bedtime and would often run around the house wildly until he was caught and forced to go to bed, went completely willingly that night. Wrapped up in his new patchwork blanket.

When England returned from taking Alfred to bed he found Hehewuti waiting for him, her eyes cold and distant, they had been growing apart lately. Their arguments had grown more frequent; even Alfred was beginning to feel the animosity, but the two had divided opinions on what was best for the land.

"Arthur" Hehewuti said softly "I'm leaving."

* * *

England shook his head in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the memory. He was not going to remember what happened next, he was not! He couldn't! Years of bitterness and anguish were beginning to well up inside him at the thought of what happened after that night. He couldn't face it, he just couldn't.

* * *

"But you can't leave me! You are under my control!"

"I am under NOBODY'S control Arthur! I think you need to remember who's land this is!"

"This is my land! My colony!"

The two were locked in a fierce argument. Arthur couldn't believe her, she was leaving him! And for… for…

"AND WHY THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU LEAVING ME FOR HIM? HE'LL ONLY BREAK YOU HEART!"

"UNLIKE YOU FRANCIS TRULY CARES ABOUT ME!"

The noise woke Alfred up from his sleep; worried for his parents he toddled across his room and peered round the door.

"YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET THIS ONE DAY ENGLAND! YOUR EMPIRE SHALL FALL AND TAKE YOU DOWN WITH IT!" Hehewuti yelled one final time. Turned and strode out of the door.

"Daddy Daddy where's Mama going?" Alfred said, tears beading in his eyes.

Arthur, trying to hold back his own tears knelt down and pulled the boy close, "Mama's not coming back Alfred."

* * *

England wiped the tears from his eyes, feeling more take their place no matter how much he tried to hold them in. For years he had held in his bitterness at her betrayal; when the 7 years war took place he had been sure he'd killed her and was free of his problems. Then in the 1850's she had written to him. The hand written letters he now held in his hand, the first ones were bitter and hard fading into letters of apology and forgiveness. They say time heals all wounds but Arthur knew, even though Hehewuti had forgiven his foolish ways, that it would be many centuries before this wound began to heal.

He stood up, carefully replacing all the items back in the box. All except one; he carefully put the arrowhead necklace round his neck and fastened it. Then he made his way back upstairs and made a long distance call.

"Hello America?" England said, surprised at how normal his voice sounded considering he'd just been crying.

"DUDE ENGLAND! You never call whassup bro?" Came the loud reply down the receiver.

"Yes, well. America I was wondering if I could come visit for a while. There's someone I'd like to come visit. Someone, I owe an apology to."

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**read, review and enjoy ^^**


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